


Gotham After Dark

by Filthycasual



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Art, Fanart, Gordlock - Freeform, Gotham fanart, Groping, Horror, Illustration, M/M, Mild Gore, Paranormal, Supernatural - Freeform, flirtation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthycasual/pseuds/Filthycasual
Summary: Jim Gordon investigates a massacre that puts him in Carmine Falcone's sights. The detective will soon come to realize there is more to the mafia don than just leading the criminal world.
Relationships: Carmine Falcone/Peter Gordon, Harvey Bullock/Jim Gordon, Victor Zsasz/ Jim Gordon
Comments: 34
Kudos: 20





	1. The Luminescence that Draws

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in a indiscernible era of time. This AU picks up right at season one for characters used.

Jim approaches the large mansion. He had been wanting to take this case from the moment a fellow detective had gone missing. The GCPD captain gave him and his partner the case with full confidence. 

The detective was new to Gotham and the police force. He spent the better part of two years proving his competency and commitment to his job. He had earned the trust and approval of his captain in no time. Unfortunately, he also earned the disdain of his fellow cops for his overachieving efforts that spotlighted their failings and corruption. He had been paired with Harvey Bullock when the older detective’s partner retired.

Harvey went his own separate way with the _Gangland Massacre_ case. The man despised the fact that they were thrusted together. Bullock often referred to him as _boy scout_ or _golden boy,_ never by his name. The both of them got into a heated argument before Jim left the precinct. The brusque older man seemed shaken and more on edge than usual. He gave Jim the old mafia don’s address and told him he’s on his own. His partner wasn’t too hot on the idea of leaving the city limits to visit the crime lord. 

Jim knows Carmine is dangerous, but he is determined to find his fellow detective. Hopefully, _alive_.

Detective Alvarez went missing a couple days ago. He was the lead investigator on the massacre case. The scene took place at a large warehouse in Falcone’s territory. The last known location of Alvarez was of him paying a visit to the Don. No one at the precinct ever saw or heard from him again. It was no secret that Carmine Falcone is corrupt, but they were never able to definitively pin anything on him. It was mostly just speculation.

The detective walks up the stairs to the front doors. He looks up at the three story mansion that spreads wide; it sits on an expansive wooded acreage. Large trees border all around the old mansion. The sounds of nocturnal creatures patrolling the dried forest floor catches Jim’s wary attention. Cries echo through the dark wood as night begins to settle. He nervously looks around when he hears rustling and guttural growls of something large just beyond the perimeter of the forest. He quickly twists the hand-turn key at the door. A chime echoes just beyond into the home.

He eyes the woods one more time before turning his attention to the surrounding garden. A low lying white mist manifests; it seeps and crawls, blanketing the estate. Jim peers at the face of the mansion, from the old structure’s appearance it looks as though it’s long been abandoned. There were no sounds of life inside, the grounds were overgrown, and much of the wooden trim on the home had rotted. Large vines crawl and reach the third story roof line. 

Jim startles when a large snake slithers out from the tangle of vines and makes its way towards the ground. He quickly backs away, giving the large animal space to slither out into the night.

His face pinches dubiously as he peers all around the door; he searches for confirmation of the address number. He takes out the folded paper that Harvey gave him to confirm he is in the right place. If it were not for the dim lights glowing from the windows on the ground level, he would have left already.

The large double-doors creak open. Jim’s head snaps towards the movement and crooks an eyebrow. There was no one standing at the door. The space beyond is dark and silent. He waits a couple of moments then calls out.

“Hello? Is this the Falcone residence? I’m Detective James Gordon.”

Another moment goes by and not a word. Jim hears a shuffle of feet then a flick of a match. An older man lights a lantern and increases the flame. The illumination begins to fill the space. Jim can see that the man is in some sort of servant uniform. If the man is the butler he was anything but tidy and presentable. His outfit is rumpled, tattered, and stained with sweat. The man approaches the doors. The meat on his face is sunken and his skin sallow. Two large eyes, red and puffy lock onto his gaze. The detective takes a step back as he eyes the man with trepidation.

“Don Falcone was not expecting visitors.” The man holds his strange gaze to Jim. His eyes widen as he nods towards the detective’s automobile in a gesture for him to return to his vehicle and leave.

Jim asserts with a hardened gaze. “This is important and will take only a few minutes of his time. I’m investigating the dis…”

The butler leans in and whispers frantically; spittle spurts from his tight lips.

“Now’s no time for words! Go! _While you still can!_ ”

From inside the dark portal another voice calls out. It is stern but soft spoken.

“ _Bring my guest in_. Escort him to the sitting room at once, Delgado.”

Jim tries to focus just beyond the veil of darkness, but no one is waiting past the entrance. The old man shuffles on his feet towards the foyer and calls out; his tone laced with pity.

“This way, Detective Gordon.”

Though electricity was common in Gotham, Jim often forgot how many homes outside the city limits still rely on gas or kerosene. The darkness of the home gives him pause. He swallows and swiftly follows the servant inside. 

The home is sumptuously adorned from floor to ceiling. Box molding, copper in-lay coffers, rich dark woods and crystal candle chandeliers can be seen by the dim glow of the lantern. Brobdingnagian paintings hang on the hallway walls, consuming just about every square inch; their size skewing the feel of the hall space. The styles of each painting are reminiscent of Hieronymus Bosch, Paul Rubens, and Hans Memling; to name a few. Each piece depicts luminous souls broken and hounded by eager demons; forever doomed to their ill fates.

The hallway floors are covered by Persian rug runners. Large vases stand next to mounted suits of various armors all along the hallway; the suits mark the entrance to different rooms. Shiny metal glints and gleams in the lantern light. The suits varied from valiant medieval knights to intricate armor that once belonged to samurais and shoguns; they lead the eye down the corridor. If the home were properly lit the space would feel vastly different. In the light of day the space might in fact present elegance, but instead the cluttered hallways feel oppressive in the darkness. 

It was obvious Carmine Falcone was a collector; he is a powerful man with untold fortune. Jim wonders if having such power and money is the reason for such conspicuous tastes. He’s beginning to understand why Harvey refused to accompany him.

The butler beckons Jim into the sitting room where another lantern is lit. A small fire is building in the stony fireplace on the main wall. A leather couch and chairs face the growing flames. Located near the windows is a large desk. On the smooth surface are neatly stacked papers and an inkwell.

The servant places the lantern he is holding on the desk. He then shuffles to a minibar by the fireplace and selects a crystal carafe. He shakily pours the spirit within into a glass. He approaches the detective with the offering.

“Whisky, sir. The master will be with you momentarily.”

Detective Gordon takes the glass not wanting to deny the offer yet not willing to drink it either. He watches as the old man makes his way out of the room. The main floor would be eerily quiet if it were not for the creaking of the wooden structures. It was the typical sounds of an old home settling on its foundation and protesting against stiff winds. He can hear the muffled sounds of creatures outside; vicious howls and calls of predators as they go on their nightly hunts. Jim sets his drink down on the small table beside the leather couch. 

A strange hushed moan sounds all throughout the home then the creak of more wood. The detective’s hair stands on end; it sounded anything but typical. Jim shuffles closer to the fireplace and looks around the room then towards the darkened hallway. He’s unable to discern from where the unusual sound came from. A sudden chill courses through his bones. He places his palms out towards the flames as he eyes the room. Though he knew the home was inhabited, he never felt more alone. He turns his attention to the comfort of the flames.

The creak of floorboards gets his attention, he turns to look toward the sitting room entrance. He flinches; a well-dressed man stands just behind him a few steps away. Jim’s brows knit together in disbelief; he could have sworn he was alone in the room just a moment ago. The man’s eyes lock onto his as he slightly bows his head.

“My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you.” 

Jim does his best to calm his nerves; he replies dismissively. “I guess I didn’t hear you approach.”

The tone of the man’s dulcet voice drips heavily with tempered annoyance, despite the otherwise bright and welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m Carmine Falcone. I was not expecting the _police department_ to come calling.” He extends his hand towards the red-faced detective.

Jim immediately accepts the hand and shakes it with a firm grip. The man is Italian, but his accent is vastly different from what he normally hears in the _Little Italy_ side of Gotham. 

“I’m Detective Gordon. I’m sorry to come unannounced. We’ve sent several correspondences requesting your appearance at the precinct, but we never heard back from you.”

Carmine examines the detective with a small smile. The man looked fresh and young. He’s in a three piece dark navy blue suit and charcoal gray caped-wool coat, the usual Gotham attire of investigators. His hair is thick and swept back. It shines like the color of wheat in the brilliance of sunlight. The man’s deep blue eyes look sleepy, possibly dreamy, but there is a keen sharpness to their gaze. He smiles and gestures to the leather couch.

“You have my complete attention.”

Jim sits and glances over at Carmine as he takes his place next to him on the couch. Twinkling eyes watch him intently. It was obvious Carmine Falcone was a man of high society; it's in the way he carries himself. Jim swallows thickly as his sights drink in the handsome man beside him. Carmine's cheekbones sit high; his facial features are perfectly chiseled. He is tall; his thick black hair is combed back to reveal two stark-white streaks at his temples. The man was assuredly good looking in his youth, but in his older age he is undeniably _striking_. 

Carmine’s smile deepens. Jim clears his throat nervously as light brown eyes narrow on him. “I’ve come to ask you questions about Detective Alvarez. He went missing the day he came to question you over a crime that took place in your warehouse.” 

The Don exhales a soft breath as a small frown develops. Jim raises an eyebrow at the odd change of expression. The crime lord blinks with a realization; it was too much of a coincidence to not be so. He leans into Detective Gordon as his eyes sweep features that seem all too familiar. He questions with great interest. 

“Would you happen to be related to Peter Gordon? He’s a district attorney from the city.”

Jim flinches at the question, throwing him off his purpose. His brows knit together as he looks away. He clears his throat and forces a polite smile.

“Yes, my father’s name was Peter Gordon. He was a DA.”

Carmine’s face brightens with the reply but his smile quickly vanishes. He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head in confusion. “Was?”

Jim looks away from the man and swallows. “My father went missing over two years ago. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay on subject.”

Carmine exhales a breath and stands. “I’m sorry to hear, of course.”

Falcone lets out a little hum as he stands and wanders to a window to watch as the full moon races beyond the canopy of the woods. He grins; it is fortuitous that this man should come knocking at his door. He clears his throat then answers the detective’s question.

“Detective Alvarez came to my home not long ago.”

Jim quickly interjects. “To be precise it was two days ago. Your home was his last known location. I would like to take your statement on the visit.”

The detective takes out a small notepad and a pencil. Carmine turns and raises an eyebrow at the rudimentary implements. He heads to his desk and retrieves a sheet of vellum, his quill, and inkwell. He beckons the detective over to this desk and chair.

“Please, use my desk and chair. Graphite scribing devices smudge. I’ve paper and ink here for you to use. _I insist_.”

Jim blinks at the man and hesitates for a moment. Carmine pulls out the chair and waits for him to approach. The man’s expression is courteous, but there is something in his eyes that sends a shiver up his spine. 

The detective stands as he offers a response. “Thank you.”

He takes a seat as Carmine helps him slot the chair to the desk. Jim stores his small pad and pencil back into his coat. He reluctantly reaches for the provided implements. 

Carmine’s hand remains on the back of the chair as he peers down fondly at the detective. The young man carried himself very much like his father. A thrill sparks up his spine. 

Gordon dips the quill into the ink and waits for Carmine to start; he looks up at the older man. The mafia don is stroking at his ruby cravat pin as a far away look clouds his eyes. Carmine returns to the window, but before he does his eyes momentarily flash a glow of red. Jim blinks, unsure if his sight is deceiving him or if it was just the light of the fireplace that shone in that crystalline gaze. The man’s soft voice snaps him out of the shock.

“Detective Alvarez came to my home to question me about murders that took place. Rival gangs warred with each other in my warehouses that ultimately ended in their demise.”

Jim quirks an eyebrow and nods once. “ _Gangland Massacres_ is what they’re called. Seems rather convenient that your competitors took themselves out.”

Carmine nods as he stands by a window to gaze at the moonlight. “The squabbles and skirmishes between Salvatore Maroni and Fish Mooney have been well-documented and observed by the authorities. The fact they wiped each other out should come with no surprise. The only surprise I have with the whole ordeal is that I’ve become a suspect in their deaths.”

Jim leans back in the chair; his brow lowers as he replies. “That isn’t what makes you a suspect, Mr. Falcone. We concluded that Fish and Maroni killed each other in the hallways leading towards the boiler room in one of your warehouses. What makes you a suspect is that it was on _your turf_ and _everyone_ was killed. We suspect there was a third party that took advantage of the mayhem.”

Carmine smirks as his gaze remains latched to the beckoning darkness outside. “My men were with me at the docks securing our cargo. Have you considered that there might be another outside gang involved _?_ I have yet to understand what lured these two factions to my warehouses; they were empty. The only thing I can speculate is that this was a setup.”

The older man turns his head and begins massaging at his temples. He conceals his face from the detective as his eyes begin to glow.

Jim writes it all down; Carmine’s voice lowers to almost a whisper. “ _You believe me._ ”

The detective raises an eyebrow then turns to cast a frown his way. “ _Should I?_ I’m not here to believe any story, Mr. Falcone. I’m only here to gather your statement and make judgement on the evidence gathered. When did Detective Alvarez arrive and how long did he stay to take your statement?”

A bewildered expression settles deeply over Carmine’s face as he turns to face the astonishingly hard-nosed man. Arresting blue eyes hold steady on him; he gawks in disbelief but quickly recovers. 

“The detective arrived at early dusk. He took my statements about being at the docks and said he was going to gather statements from my men and the workers at the harbor. He was here about an hour and a half.”

“He had evidence that didn’t match up with Fish or Maroni’s people. He told you that; didn’t he?”

Carmine nods. “I imagine all this seems highly suspicious and places me as the number one suspect.”

Jim scoots the chair back and stands. “Mr. Falcone, I would advise that you stay in town. You’re under investigation. If you’re truly innocent of the murders, being unattainable will only hurt your case. We may want you to come to the precinct for added questioning.”

Carmine’s face turns hard, but he nods to acknowledge the detective. The young man is swiftly gathering the paper with his notes and stowing the quill back in its holder. Blue eyes glance over at him as golden brows lower; the man looks pained and unsure.

Don Falcone curtly questions the uncomfortable looking man. “Something else on your mind, detective?”

“How did you know my father?”

Carmine’s hardened expression softens ever so slightly. A sly smirk manifests as he asks. “Did you enter the force to investigate your father’s disappearance?”

Jim winces at the question; it was too accurate for his liking. He sighs as he slots the chair back under the desk. 

“You deflect.”

Carmine grins. “You came here to question me about Detective Alvarez. The topic of your father isn’t the reason for the visit, _as you so mentioned_.”

The crime lord turns to escort the detective back to the front door. He gestures with his hand towards the hallway; his grin turns into a wide smile. 

Jim briefly witnesses the glint of unusual teeth. He watches on in shock as the man makes his way towards the sitting room exit. He shakes his head, certain that his early uneasiness is influencing how he perceives little things. 

Carmine takes the lantern from the desk and enters the hallway. He gets halfway to the front doors but stops and turns to regard a macabre painting. He holds the lantern near it. It’s of a humanoid hellion, handsome but dark and hellish. It’s subduing a fair and bright soul. Long fangs are bared as it prepares to bite down on the exposed neck of it’s victim. It mimicked the same composition and layout of William Bougureau’s awful tableau in his _Dante and Virgil_ piece. Instead of Dante and Virgil there to take witness, it was instead a crowd of humans with bright red eyes watching and praising the demon.

Don Falcone keeps his eyes on the painting; there is an odd tone to his voice as he comments. “I knew your father when he was a young attorney. Full of **righteousness** , morals _,_ and impeccable standards. We were enemies. I was often the subject of his investigations.”

Jim stops in his tracks and questions incredulously. “I searched my father’s case file and not once were you ever mentioned as a possible suspect. When was the last time you saw my father?”

Carmine raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, but he doesn’t bother to turn to look at the young detective. He can feel the man’s suspicion grow with every second. The young man was sure to have that same frown and hardness that his father, Peter Gordon, always has when confronting him. A large smile stretches from ear to ear. His eyes glow with the hellfire of his secretive preternatural species.

Somewhere in the drafty dark mansion a loud cry and moan issues. Jim spins around on his heels and holds still to discern from where it came. He hears a sharp pained yelp come from the opposite end of the long hallway they are standing in. Jim runs towards the sounds. He enters a large kitchen lit with a couple of lanterns. The butler is currently on his knees holding a bloodied hand.

“Are you okay?”

The disheveled man looks up, his eyes blood-shot, his skin covered in sweat. He nods as he holds his hand. Jim looks around and retrieves a hand towel. He squats down in front of the man and wraps his hand.

He notices the man is fearfully staring into a darkened corner of the dimly lit kitchen. Jim turns to see what or who he is looking at, but there is no one there.

“You’ll need stitches. How did you cut your hand?”

The man shakes his head. “I’m fine! It’s time you left detective.”

Jim frowns as he stands; he looks around the kitchen. Though he saw no one in the area, he can’t help but feel he is being watched. He also found it strange that Carmine didn’t come to see for himself what all the noise was about. He looks down at the man and mentions.

“Keep pressure on it and get yourself to the hospital.”

Jim walks back down the hallway, eager to leave the strange home. The long corridor is dark; the wood floor creaks and moans with his footfalls. The darkness begins to prick at him. The light in the sitting room was turned out, as well as the fireplace it seems; no light glows from the entrance to lend aid. 

He isn’t normally given into fear over unseen things, but his skin rises with goosebumps as he nears the foyer. He hears what sounds like a breath at his ear; he halts. He swiftly turns around but there is no one behind him. That’s when he feels fingertips at the back of his neck. He instinctively reaches to grab the offending hand, but his grasps clutch at nothing. He makes a swift heading for the front doors. Carmine is nowhere to be seen, but Jim could care less.

He races out the door and heads for his automobile. He starts the steam combustion engine and turns on the headlights. He notices that the entire home is now dark. He leaves the large estate and heads back to Gotham.


	2. The Common Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey and Jim head out for a night of bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to keep up the pace of a chapter a week. We shall see.

Carmine is in his chambers sulking by a window as he watches the detective’s automobile race down the long road. The allure of the young man calls out to him. His fine looks and his inexplicable strong will stirs a craving within him. 

_So much like his father._

Most humans are easily swayed with barely any effort on his part. He first noticed how impenetrable the man’s mind and will was when he tried to lure him into his arms on the couch. He could hear the man’s thoughts; the blonde practically flung them at him. He was attracted to him, but the detective registered nary an inkling to touch him.

Then he tried to influence the detective into believing the story of his whereabouts pertaining to the case. The man brushed off the mind control and commenced chiding him. Carmine had actually made a concerted effort to assert himself over the man’s mind but got nowhere. It was rare to find a human so resistant to his gifts.

He senses the presence of his enforcer behind him. He holds his chin high as he questions. “Is our guest ready to be released?”

Carmine turns to regard the pale creature behind him. A smooth head nods as pink lips stretch into an opened-mouth smile. There is a hint of excitement in his tone as he commands his dutiful enforcer.

“Release him near the precinct. Then I want you to watch over Detective Gordon. He’s proven to be _resistant_.”

His obedient counterpart shudders with anticipation. “Is he to be _altered_?” 

Large dark eyes widen as a small breath full of hunger expels from Victor Zsasz. He had flirted with the man in the hallway. Most mortals would have ran from the darkness screaming their heads off, but the detective stood his ground. He was tantalized by the brave man's scent and ached for a sample of his flavor. His golden skin permeated a heady fragrance which reminded Zsasz of jasmine blooms in the summer evening breeze. It was a bouquet of rich copper, thick hormones, and salty sweat; it stirred something within him. The man radiated everything good and wholesome of the day lit world; a feeling that had been long removed from his life for countless years. Victor wanted to consume Detective Gordon on the spot. His creator’s voice snaps him out of his hunger. 

“We shall see. Report to me all the detective knows pertaining to the murders and his father.”

The man beams a grin as his body dematerializes and fades from the room. Carmine heads through a secret passage from his chambers. He descends stairs until he is sub-level. The ghostly moans of past interests groan their mindless discontent at their cell walls. Some of them had been a challenge to conquer back when they were full of life. He keeps them alive here, though the word _alive_ is somewhat a loose term for what they are now. Their body and minds linger in a state between life and death; who they once were has long faded beyond all recollection. Carmine keeps them to feed on when he wants to remember their taste and to glimpse decayed memories of the life they once led. Now, with the promise of a greater prize, he found their husks lacking.

His eyes glow fiery red as his power reaches out to crush and twist every ghoul into pulp. Their bodies are rendered into a gory mess that splatters and drenches their miserable prisons; all in a in a blink of an eye. He reaches the last chamber to his favorite. 

The body on the bed stirs with a start. A head pops up as hard blue eyes gaze at the barred-window of the cell room. Carmine’s body fractures into hundreds of tiny pieces that take the shape of a buzzing swarm. Hundreds of flies enter the room through the bar slots. He then gathers his atoms and rebuilds his body to his human form. His eyes turn to regard his captive; they burn bright with anticipation. 

A sweet smile graces Carmine's lips as he approaches the bed. “I come with a gift. Your son paid me a visit. Handsome boy, that one. How could you not tell me you had a son?”

The blue gaze hardens as the man glares at him through long brown hair. Carmine can sense his captive’s agony over the discovery. For the first time he feels a shift in his defiant prospect. 

Peter growls at him. “It was not for you to know! I swear, I will destroy you if you so much as touch him!”

Carmine clasps his hands behind his back and looks about the cell; he incarcerated the man after a failed escape. He eyes the dirt and filth of the small room then shakes his head. He exhaustedly replies. “What exactly do you think you are capable of doing to me? You are on borrowed time if you insist on maintaining such stubbornness. Though it would pain me to dispose of you, I know I will be able to move on especially with someone like young _Detective Gordon_.”

Peter springs from the bed; his fists balled at his sides. He wished for one night that Carmine was human so he could pummel him into oblivion. The monster is grinning at him and waiting for whatever meager attempt at defiance he is about to make. Peter looks down at his arms and bare chest; two years of punishment are riddled across his body. Carmine may be outwardly pleasant and giving, but he is still a _miscreation_ ; a dark being given to monstrous cravings, anger, and wickedness.

Carmine approaches his captive who quickly glares up at him. He always did love how the man never once begged for mercy or kindness. Peter always kept his pain to himself despite the hell he has gone through.

“Perhaps we can make a deal.”

Peter’s eyes grow wide as his spirit sinks. He already knew deep down what the insidious vampire is planning. Bright red eyes peer down at him as fangs flash in a large unnatural smile.

___

  
  
  


Jim breathes a sigh of relief once he is out on the main road headed back to Gotham. The city sparkles like jewels against the night sky; the twinkle of civilization brings him relief. He leans in and switches on the radio. He needs something cheerful to ease his spirits back to normal. There was something about Carmine Falcone that unnerved him. In fact, **everything** about the man was unusual, from his home down to the way he spoke. It was his over abundance of confidence that disturbed Jim.

_Why would he offer up that he and my father knew each other? Why would he then tell me that they were enemies? Is he that assured of his untouchability?_

What really made Jim wonder, was why no one thought to question the crime lord during the investigation. If what Carmine said is true about him and his father being enemies then it would stand to reason that he be questioned and his home searched.

Jim makes his way back to the precinct. He intends to head to the docks, but taking the statements of a dozen workers would consume most of the night. He wants to see if his partner is around to accompany him. He parks in the precinct garage and enters the building through the garage door.

Inside, the officers are busy going about their night booking perps, filing paperwork, and tending to the prisoners in temporary holding. Jim scales the stairs to the landing where their desks are located in front of the captain’s office. Harvey and Captain Essen are there; his partner is seated at his desk while eating a sandwich and from the looks of it is having a hushed debate with the captain.

Captain Sara Essen has a hand on her hip and finger pointed at the stubborn goat of a man. Harvey throws his hands up along with his sandwich as he retorts to whatever she just said. His deli meats fling from the shambles of bread slices and onto the floor.

The exhausted woman glances at Jim as he scales the stairs. She relents her admonishment of the older detective and approaches; her expression is one of relief.

“Gordon, how did it go questioning Don Falcone?”

Harvey glances over at Jim; he places his food back in the paper bag and wipes his hands. A thick hairy eyebrow rises as he eyes his partner’s posture; the man looks disturbed and uncertain. A kernel of guilt begins to develop. Though he found the younger detective annoying and a pain to work with, he has been warming up to the do-gooder. Also, he got a kick out of riling up the stuffy shirt.

Jim smiles painfully as he replies to Essen. “Carmine Falcone is a hard read, but he confirmed that Alvarez was at his home. I want to head to the docks.”

He looks over at Harvey and sighs; he’s expecting a fight with his request. “Bullock, I would like for the both of us to question the workers, to confirm if Don Falcone was there the night of the _Gangland Massacre_.”

Harvey grins and picks up several reports. He replies smugly as he waves the papers. “Looky here; it seems I’ve already done that. They all confirmed that Falcone was on premise that night.”

Jim raises an eyebrow as he approaches Harvey’s desk. He snatches the reports from the older man’s hand and looks it over. 

Captain Essen points a sharp finger at Harvey from behind Detective Gordon’s back in one final threat to their previous conversation. Her eyes glare at him before she turns and heads back to her office. Harvey grimaces; the captain had ripped him a new one for letting his partner go in alone to the Falcone estate. He wanted Jim to learn a lesson about letting certain people be and Carmine Falcone was one of those people. He didn’t believe for one second the Don would do anything to Jim, especially when one detective already disappeared after going to pay him a visit. 

He peers up at his younger partner; the man looks agitated. Hard blues eyes scan the documents. The troubled brow smooths as Jim glances down at him for a moment before shuffling the papers to continue reading. Harvey grasps at his pen and twirls it around his thumb while he waits for his partner to cease scrutinizing his reports. The young blonde is a silent mouth reader. His dimpled chin bobs up and down as he pours through the statements; pouty lips rapidly take the shape of each word. The old detective grins despite himself. He then lets out a huff and clears his throat with exaggerated annoyance. He throws up his hands as he crooks a hairy eyeball at his partner.

Jim glances down at Harvey then drops the papers onto the desk. He watches sourly as Bullock taps the stack and flings it in an inbox. Those hazel eyes not once tearing from his own gaze. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” Harvey asks as he narrows his gaze.

Jim frowns as he turns away and plops down onto his chair. He begins chewing on his lower lip as he mulls over his experience at Falcone’s home. He shakes his head then replies in an accusatory tone. 

“You could have **warned** me what I was walking into.”

“Get under your skin; did he?” 

Harvey smirks as he eyes his blonde partner. Jim looks over at him; pained blue eyes pierce right through him. He sighs and relents his mocking smile. Harvey’s met the crime lord a few times. The man had a way about him that made one question their own thoughts. He wasn’t sure how Jim would fare, but he had a feeling Carmine would take it easy on him. A few years ago Falcone spoke fondly of Jim’s father in newspaper interviews. This was on the eve of the largest case in Gotham’s history that turned in his favor. The man was extraordinary in that he praised his adversary for his efforts. Also it didn’t hurt that Jim had his father’s fire and his good looks. He’s confident Carmine fell head over heels for the dashing son of the _Great Peter Gordon_.

Harvey snaps out of his thoughts when Jim inhales a deep breath; his voice seemingly distant as he comments.

“He said he knew my father. He practically boasted how they were enemies. I’ve seen my father’s investigation file. Carmine was never mentioned.”

Harvey flings a troubled look his way and leans his elbows on his desk. “I see them wheels turnin’ in that head of yours. _Don’t_.”

Jim scowls at Harvey. “You may be afraid of him but I’m not. If he is somehow involved with my father’s disa…”

“Damn it, Jim! Your father disappeared as he was headed home from testifyin’ in another case that had nothin’ to do wit’ Carmine. Your father was not well-liked by the criminal underworld and let’s face it, some politicians in Gotham woulda loved to see him disappear. He was too good at his job and that meant he had a lot of enemies!”

Harvey looks away as he nervously chews on his lower lip. He huffs as he leans back in his chair, casting Jim an anxious look.

Jim gruffs as he turns a hard eye towards Harvey. “You seem to know all about it.”

Harvey smooths his beard and sighs. “My old partner was part of the investigation. There was a lot of planted evidence that had him and another detective goin’ in circles. Whoever done it, had every loose end tied tight.”

Jim is about to reply when commotion from the bullpen and the front doors grab his attention. The officers are surrounding someone. Jim and Harvey both hurry from their desks and rush towards the crowd.

Detective Alvarez is stumbling and shivering; his wild eyes look towards whatever inner demons that seem to be torturing him. He’s babbling as spittle drips down his chin. The man is naked and from the looks of it had been beaten badly. An officer throws his trench coat over the incoherent man. Alvarez shouts; everyone flinches with the outburst.

“Monsters! Monsters!” Alvarez wails as he falls to the floor shivering.

Harvey bulls his way through the crowds and commands the situation. “Everyone back da fuck up!” He points at two large officers. “You and you! Help me get him to M.E until we can get paramedics over here!”

The officers pick up the distraught man and pull the trench coat tightly around him as they carry him off. The captain comes out of her office and watches on in disbelief. She approaches Jim. 

“What in the bloody hell! Did he just walk through the doors or did someone find him!?”

Jim’s eyes are glued to Alvarez as the officers and Harvey get him to M.E. He shakes his head as he watches on in shock. “He walked through the doors. He looks as though he was tortured.”

The captain rushes after Harvey and the others. Jim hurries after her; his thoughts can’t help but bring up Carmine as the one responsible.

___

Later.

“I gave him a mild sedative. From what I saw, he suffered blunt force trauma all over his body. There are dozens of bite marks all over him. I took pictures and swabbed them. What is strange is that the bite marks look like some kind of animal got a hold of him. There are fang punctures but I don’t know of any animal with the type of fangs and teeth patterns that are all over the detective. Anyhow, the ambulance is here. They’re getting a gurney.”

Harvey nods as he turns a haunted look down at the sedated detective strapped to the examination table. “Yeah, okay.”

He heads back to the bullpen. A lot of the officers are watching him; some look spooked. He didn't know what to say to them nor did he feel compelled to ease their worries. He stomps his way towards the captain’s office; Jim is there talking to Essen. He enters the office.

“I called his wife. I’m picking her up and taking her to the hospital.”

Jim glances at Harvey and says. “I questioned everyone that was near the doors. No one saw him enter from the outside. They all said they turned their heads and he was there stumbling from the front entrance.”

Harvey’s face pinches with the news. “How _da hell_ does no one see a six foot-two naked man enter the precinct?! It makes no goddamn sense!”

Jim shakes his head and shrugs. He brings a hand up and wipes down his face in exhaustion. He turns to the captain and asks. “Would you like company to the hospital?”

The captain shakes her head and looks at her watch. “No. You two are already on overtime. Go home. Let’s give Alvarez a day or two before we approach him.”

The captain grabs her coat and nods towards the doors. Jim and Harvey exit the office and head to their desks.

Harvey walks past Jim who is in deep thought. The older man reaches for his coat and hat; he turns to walk away but halts in his step. He looks over his shoulder at his partner who seems all caught up in his thoughts. He decides to cut the young detective some slack and calls out to him.

“Hey. Com'on.”

Large blue eyes peer over at him; the pensive look morphs into a deadpan. Jim blinks a couple of times when he questions. “Where to?”

“To get some beers. We didn’t exactly solve the case, but I’m willin’ to call it a win for now. You joinin’ me or what?” Harvey smiles as he nods towards the doors.

Jim gawks but quickly grabs his coat and nods. He and Harvey almost never agree on anything and more often than not disdained everything about each other’s work ethics. However, the chance to get to know his partner is something he wasn’t about to pass up. If there was a chance the two of them could at least bond over _something,_ he is willing to take it.

“Yeah, a few drinks sound good right about now.”

Harvey glances over at Jim. Blue eyes peer up at him; a thankful expression brightens golden features. He offers a large smile and purrs. 

“The boy scout **does** drink.”

Jim scoffs with amusement as he follows the older man out of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Looks like Harvey and Jim are finally gonna start gettin' along. awwww.


	3. One Giant Leap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey and Jim discuss the case and also find something in common they both hadn't realized about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I love Harvey Bullock. Well, the one that resides in my head when I write him but also Donal's version. =)

The detectives take a taxi to a local bar. The crowd was typical for a Monday night. There were ample tables and booths to choose from. The smoky atmosphere hangs heavy as a few chain smokers and deep drinkers lounge and chat up the night. 

Harvey let Jim decide where to sit. The blonde opted for a booth in the back, away from the few patrons and the bellowing of rancid smoke. The lights are dim in the corner which provides a more intimate and quiet setting. The both of them are three shots of whisky in and starting on their beers.

The both of them carry on over trivial things, likes and dislikes, the city streets, and the best location for food at any given hour of the night.

After a bit of silence Harvey looks over at Jim and says with a sly smirk. “I gotta be honest, I’m surprised you made it outta the Falcone estate in one piece.”

Harvey watches as Jim leans both elbows on the table and slouches. Distant eyes stare down at the table top as a dislodged lock of hair dusts pensive brows. Jim’s stiff demeanor seemed to finally let up. He often wondered what the boy scout looked like _off the clock._ He and some of the officers joked that Jim probably never removes that stick lodged way up his butt, not even for a minute. Hell, he was sure he slept with it in. 

But now...

Harvey analyzes his partner’s relaxed state with a small smile. A dark blue tie is hanging loose; the knot no longer at Jim’s neck. His shirt unbuttoned down to the third button and his sleeves are rolled up. The man’s golden features are flushed a pink hue from the alcohol. Half-lidded, soft, blue eyes glance his way and stay. Harvey feels something within him stir.

Jim finally replies as he scoffs. “The whole interaction was odd. Not that he said anything unusual. It’s just…(shakes his head and puffs out) I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Harvey picks up his half empty beer mug and slams down the rest of his brew. He signals for two more at the bartender. He returns his attention to Jim and lets out a small chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Everyone that has ever met the man all say the same thing. Carmine is suave and very intuitive. He also uses those looks of his to charm and beguile.”

Jim flushes hot when he remembers how taken he was with the older man’s appearance. He bites his lower lip as he reaches for his mostly empty beer mug and tries to calm down. 

Harvey notices the a shift in Jim's body language. The reddening cheeks, the constant blinking and the nervous way he looks for something to distract himself with. He's holding onto his beer mug like a drowning man holds onto a lifesaver. The young detective has tell-tale ticks. They are subtle, but after two years of working with _GCPD's Golden Boy_ he is finally able to pick up on them _._ Jim is a stoic man, hard to shake, and hard to unhinge; but now, with his defenses down, it shocks him. He raises an eyebrow and as a knowing smirk spreads wide.

“Ooooh! You **have** noticed his looks.”

Jim clears his throat and dismisses the surprisingly accurate observation. “I found him unpleasant.”

Their refreshed beers slide onto the table. Harvey nods his gratitude to the waitress. He glances at Jim who immediately takes the new mug and begins chugging. Harvey leans back in the booth seat and props an arm over the backrest. His hazel eyes watch as his partner borders on drunken fluster; he chuckles at the scene.

Jim sets down the beer and smooths his hair back. He blinks at Harvey. He can feel his face grow hotter. The man’s shirt is open as his tie hangs undone around his neck. Harvey’s broad chest puffs in and out with laughter; a thick patch of dark curls are exposed by the slack shirt. Jim eyes the glorious nest. He wonders what it would feel like, to have those thick locks curling and entangling around his outspread fingers. He then fantasizes how firm Harvey’s chest would feel against his exploring hand. The older man’s mirth subsides as he smooths a long auburn lock behind an ear. He grasps at a pack of cloves and his lighter sitting by his drink.

Jim gapes. His partner more often than not was a crumpled mess with unruly hair, but he found him handsome in all his burly glory. The staunch macho way Harvey conducts himself can be infuriating at times, but Jim found it undeniably sexy. The surliness of the man’s voice and the shameless way he swaggers when being a complete asshole, it pisses him off.

 _But, still_.

Jim can’t help but look forward to their interactions. Harvey may be bullheaded and questionable in his commitment to his job, but the man does have a heart of gold. It’s _deep down._ He’s seen it.

Harvey lights his clove and exhales a plume. He turns his attention to Jim to find the man staring at him. His pupils are blown, his cheeks red, and his chest is heaving ever so slightly. An eyebrow rises as his expression morphs into pleasant surprise. He quickly glances around the bar; the crowds were starting to gather and multiply. He decides to steer the topic to what happened at the precinct. 

“Don’t you think it seems like an awfully big coincidence that you went to Carmine’s home and now Alvarez comes walkin’ through the precinct doors?”

Jim blinks back his daydream, doing his best to register what was said. He takes a moment before replying. “I was thinking that very thing. But if Alvarez knows anything about the massacre why would he release him? Wouldn’t that just be a huge risk to Carmine?”

Harvey leans his elbows on the table as he inhales another hit of his cigarette before commenting. “Maybe we should consider that either Carmine Falcone is innocent or crazy reckless. The man is powerful and made his empire by being smart. I don’t think he would risk it all to play some sick game wit’ us.”

Jim rubs at his neck and nods. “Yeah, I was thinking about that as well.”

Harvey drinks down more of his beer and eyes Jim. It was well known how much Don Falcone admired Peter Gordon and to have James Gordon walk through his doors, it must have caught the eccentric crime lord off-guard. What was there not to admire about the detective? Great looks, determination, and the son to the infamous DA. 

“That stuff ‘bout your dad that Carmine mentioned, maybe he said all that to get you to come back around?”

Jim rests his arms on the table and slumps over as he quirks an eyebrow at his partner. “What do you mean?”

Harvey scoffs and smoothes his beard. He leans in and explains. “I mean he wants you to come back. You know coz’ you’re...”

He gestures at him with a sweeping hand motion. Jim perks up from his slouch as both brows rise. His face begins burning with the comment. He stammers as he questions.

“I… I’m what?”

Harvey smirks and states. “ _A sexy devil_.”

Jim smiles apprehensively at Harvey. He blinks a few times, unsure of how to respond. Hazel eyes burn right through him as the man inhales a long drag from his clove cigarette. Jim expels a shy chuckle and demurs.

“I doubt that is the reason, but if I find anything that ties him to my father's disappearance he’ll be seeing me again.”

Harvey puffs out a large plume and scoffs as he turns out his smoke in a tin ashtray. “Well, before you willingly wander into his clutches, how ‘bout you let me talk to my old partner ‘bout the case.”

Jim gapes for a moment before nodding. He lets out a long weary sigh before grabbing his beer to drink it down.

Harvey watches as Jim inhales his beer; his partner has been slamming down his drinks since they arrived to the bar. If Harvey were a betting man, which he is, he is sure Jim was feeling the affects of his swiftly guzzled libations. His gaze is caught when Jim tilts his mug up to gulp down his brew. He brazenly marvels at the way a pronounced Adam's Apple bobs up and down under a five o’clock shadow and sun-kissed skin. The large glass mug lowers; deep blue eyes latch onto Harvey, drawing his attention.

An odd silence builds between the both of them as they're gazes lock onto each other. After a few heartbeats Jim's gaze slips down to Harvey’s chest. The bartender’s voice breaks the developing tension.

“Last call! Thirty-minutes, everyone!”

Jim shyly blinks and looks back at the bar. Harvey reluctantly tears his eyes from Jim, miffed with the bartender for shifting the mood. He clears his throat and fishes out money for the bill. 

“I got this.”

Jim smiles and nods. “Thanks.”

Harvey gathers his things and makes for the bar to pay. Jim looks at the time; it was eleven-thirty. He was nowhere near tired and still had some of his wits about him. He hastily pulls on his coat and approaches Harvey at the bar.

“I’ll get us a cab.”

Harvey nods as he hands the bartender the cash. Jim exits the bar; there are a couple of cabs at the curb waiting to take patrons to their next destinations. On the other side of the street a hairless watcher manifests after slipping out the bar doors undetected. He watches from beside a black lamp post as the flaxen-hair detective leans over to talk to a cabbie.

Zsasz thought about approaching the man, but wanted to wait until the best possible moment. He spies the detective’s partner exit the bar; they both enter a ready cab. He shape-shifts into a crow and perches on the gaslight.

“Where to, my friends?” The cab driver asks as he primes the steam engine and begins the tally counter.

Jim was about to speak but Harvey quickly interjects. _“Chulitas.”_

He peers over at Jim as he reclines into the back seat. “It’s early. Let’s get in a show and more drinks.”

Jim brightens with the suggestion. “Sure why not?”

Harvey leans in close to Jim’s ear as his arm encircles the blonde’s shoulders. He pulls the man close and comments in a hushed breath. 

“I talked wit’ the M.E. and he told me that Alvarez had dozens of bite marks. What was really strange is that the bites had fang punctures. He said it didn't look like any animal that he could readily identify.”

Jim can feel his body heat rise as Harvey’s hot breath blankets his ear and neck. He can feel the tickle of a beard and mustache with each word. The man’s grip clamps down to keep him in place. It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts past the rise of his carnal wants. His lips part as his senses begin to cloud over with alcohol and lust. He then manages to remember that Carmine had an odd smile. He thought he saw fangs.

Jim swallows as he turns his head to whisper back; Harvey's face is so close that if the cabbie were to glance back in the mirror he would think the two were about to kiss.

“This is going to sound strange, but I could have sworn that Carmine had sharp teeth. He quickly flashed them at me, but I thought I was just seeing things.”

Harvey lets out a hum; Jim’s so close that he can smell his breath. His lips part as the blonde leans in closer. Harvey makes no move to close the gap instead he continues with their topic of discussion.

“No, it makes sense. If an animal had done that damage, the bite marks would be messier. There would be tearin’. His body would be _ravaged_.”

Jim glances down at Harvey’s lips. There was something in the older man’s voice that sparks a thrill up his spine. His blood quickens. He huskily whispers. 

“Were the bites all over or just in certain places?”

Harvey glances at the cabby to gage whether the man was paying them any attention. When it was clear the man was negotiating crowded streets and not looking in on them he reaches up towards Jim. His fingertips alight on his neck. 

“Lots of them were…(strokes his neck) here.”

Jim shudders with the touch; his eyes closing. Harvey then looks down as he glides his hand to rest on Jim’s chest. “And here.” 

His hand slowly slips down to Jim’s thighs; his voice practically moaning. _“And in between his thighs.”_

Harvey’s hand slips in between Jim’s legs as his thumb strokes firmly across wool pants. He looks up to Jim’s face. The blonde is practically shaking with want; hazy half-lidded blues watch him. Harvey lets out an amused breath and slowly releases Jim from his grip. He comments to cool off the heated moment. 

“Perhaps Carmine does have fangs; it wouldn't surprise me.”

Jim swallows and tries his best to compose himself. He croaks out. “Things would be much more confusing if he does.”

Harvey's eyes roll up and down Jim’s trembling body. He smirks as he chirps out. “We can explore that at length later. Tonight let’s get smashed. My apartment is within walkin’ distance of Chulitas. You can sleep at my place tonight.”

Jim leans in just a bit, aching to kiss Harvey, but too scared to make a move. Also, the thought of an audience didn’t sit well with him. He’s always been a cautious man. When exploring his sexuality, his discretion multiplies. Also, he wants to make sure that his partner is indeed coming onto him before he irreparably makes an awkward working relationship worse. The both of them buttheads often and for the last two years he was sure Harvey hated everything about him. The leap to sexual desire was a large one.

He never thought for once that his partner was into men. Even now he isn’t sure, despite the backseat groping. He could easily see Harvey rebuke physical contact and closeness, maybe even recoil at the thought of touching another man. Yet, Harvey touched him and is seemingly leading him on. Jim’s curiosity heightens; he finds the back and forth play intriguing. 

Jim clears his throat and pulls away. He comments nonchalantly. “Thanks for the offer, but I can take a cab. I don’t want to impose.”

Harvey smirks. “You’re not imposin’ if I offered. How ‘bout we see where the night takes us? Chulitas can get distractin’ and before you know it, it’s almost dawn.”

Jim chuckles softly and shakes his head. “I’ve never been to a burlesque that held my interest for very long.” 

Harvey raises an eyebrow as his arm returns over Jim’s shoulders. “Well, if the entertainment doesn’t deliver there are plenty of other places on the strip.”

“Okay. I’ll trust your lead.” Jim replies as he eyes Harvey’s lips. “Wherever you decide to _take me_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some good ol fashion Gordlock flirtations. This chapter was slightly smaller. I didn't want to break up the mood with adding more content from the next chapter. >;)


	4. The Seduction Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey takes Jim to another club in hopes of getting him hot and bothered. Zsasz watches on, concealed from their sight.

At Chulitas.

Zsasz continues to follow the two, veiled by darkness and his own powers of concealment. The detectives didn’t talk about the cases. They mostly drank and watched as half-naked women pranced around in feathered bodices, fishnet stockings, and heels. The group of five women sing their show tunes as they perform an artsy yet sensual display on the stage. Once the song reaches a crescendo, the performers strut through the crowds of adoring men as their voices harmonize. A manned spotlight follows the lead performer as she picks out a random audience member to sit on and serenade. Her attention lasts at most a generous minute before disembarking a sweaty lap to slither away from grasping hands. Hulking bouncers at the edge of the scene bristle and eye the lovestruck recipient, ready to toss him out if he dared to impede her nightly routine.

Victor chuckles when a couple of the more gregarious drunks get tossed out of the building. Though he is enjoying the show, his attention is solely on his mark. The detectives’ posture and proximity to one another hasn't changed since they arrived. Jim is sitting at the small table with his elbows on the surface as his hands encompass a full drink that’s turned into a prop. His eyes look but his focus seems elsewhere.

Harvey is standing just behind him as he guzzles down his third beer. His focus entirely on the wandering performers. The man peers down at his companion once in a while; there was no move on his part to get closer.

Victor had been in the bar, invisible to their eyes. He was in the booth beside them listening in and watching the two closely. In that cozy setting it seemed the detectives were about to reach a moment of realization over their mutual attraction. Flushed bodies, awkward silences, and flirtatious looks were all too telling. He didn’t need his vampiric powers to discern such obvious clues.

Now, it seems as though they’ve reverted back to their pre-alcohol, awkward personas; the _separate but together_ feel of people who are uncomfortable and unsure of how to bridge the gap between them.

A comment here and there broke the odd state of their moods, but nothing more.

Victor peers into the older man’s head. Though not much was said or even acted on; it was obvious what the larger man wanted of his golden-skinned partner. A flash of the smaller man pinned underneath the hairy brute enters Victor’s mind.

The pale vampire leers as Harvey’s thoughts play inside his head. Lustful visions of a thick cock buried deep inside as large hands clamp down on smaller hips. Zsasz puckers his lips in excitement, but the steamy show soon dissolves away. He sucks his teeth when a sweaty Jim Gordon fades from his head. He lets out a perturbed huff as he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms.

The older man was playing it cool and kept his hands to himself; he was making a game of it. Victor grins; he often forgets how exciting it is to act out displays of seduction. Now, all he has to do is tap into his vampiric powers to entice his target to come to him. He can’t remember when was the last time he has chased anyone; he's often too impatient for such things. He likes to gorge on several humans a night if he is able. His attention span is like a butterfly, never content to spend too much time on one beautiful bloom when a vast garden of delights awaited him. It’s why he would rather expedite his gratification than waste time with games.

_Yet, there’s somethin’ thrillin’ ‘bout anticipation._

Victor is drawn from his thoughts; the bearded-man moves from his post and leans over his seated companion’s shoulder. A meaty hand rests on the back of Jim’s neck as mustached-lips whisper in his ear, eliciting a smile from the beautiful man’s lips. Harvey’s fingers slip to the front of the man’s throat as he continues to speak to him. Jim bites his lower lip and nods at whatever is whispered.

Zsasz’s sight adjusts; his vision penetrates Jim’s skin and muscles to watch the heat signature of his vascular system. The soft glow of warm arterial blood grows as Jim’s heart races to fill his extremities; the man’s veins radiate a bright red hue in the vampire’s eyes. The flutter of lashes, the reddening of flesh; and the sound of his smoky voice calls out to him. He growls softly with desire; he wants to drink deeply of the man, to capture him in his grasp and slowly satiate his thirst.

The two men finally get up and leave the gaudy establishment. 

Jim is a little drunk but nothing so over the top he isn’t in control of his faculties. His partner leads him out of the building with his arm around his shoulders. He wasn’t so sure that Harvey was affected by anything he had consumed so far. 

They exit the stuffy building and are greeted by the cold autumn air. Harvey had been watching Jim while they were in Chulitas; the man didn’t seem too interested in the show. Jim was cooling off and sobering up. He wants to backtrack to the moment in the cab; the hot and heavy petting session had been the most fun Harvey’s seen in a long time. It stoked an inner fire in him, something he hasn’t felt in years. It would certainly be the sexiest scandal of the year; the two detectives engaged in a racy affair. The thought of his rigid partner undone and writhing on his cock is all Harvey can think about. He has another place in mind that he hopes will get Jim’s blood boiling again. 

A chuckle escapes Jim’s mouth; his breaths plume upwards into the frosty night air. He shakes his head at the comically named building sign. 

“Uh, Dick Squared? Is this what I think it is?”

Harvey chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it's uh... well, it's a club for **men**. But the real reason behind the name is because the owners are named Richard and Richard.” He walks towards the door and holds it open for Jim. “Despite the corny double entendre the place is actually top notch. Uuuh… unless this isn’t your thing?”

Jim eyes his partner scrupulously; this move throws him for a loop. The mere thought of Harvey frequenting such a place seemed so unlike what he envisioned about the man. He doesn’t answer his companion right away, but looks away and rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck.

The older man grins and soon lets out a chuckle. “Okay, I get it. Not your thing. It’s just… in the bar and cab… I thought… “

“If we’re here for my benefit alone then let’s skip it. Really, it’s okay.” Jim interjects as he shoves his hands in his coat pockets. 

Harvey shakes his head and beams back at his partner. “Well, I guess we’re learnin’ a lot ‘bout each other tonight, huh?”

Jim swallows and offers a nervous smile. He admits to himself he’s too chicken shit to ever make the first move. There was a lot to consider and be cautious about. He wonders if Harvey feels the same way as well. 

_Maybe he is trying to gage my response before he makes his move?_

Harvey ushers Jim inside. The host greets the older detective warmly like an old friend. Jim stands to the side as he watches the both of them talk for a moment; they engage in an intimate dance of colloquial greetings and small talk. Harvey digs into his coat and pulls out some cash; he hands it to the host. The older man whispers something that Jim isn’t able to hear.

Harvey turns to Jim and says loudly over the din of music and cheering crowds. “I’m goin’ to the head. The host is findin’ us a private show booth.”

Jim nods as his face flushes bright at what Harvey might have in store for him. His companion melts into the crowds as he heads to the restroom. Jim peers at the coming and going of patrons; beautiful boys and rugged men alike filter in and out of the place.

Victor watches the blonde. He had tried so often to read his mind and each time he was met with silence. He never encountered a human’s mind so completely cut off from him. 

Zsasz has seen the effect these rare minds have over Don Falcone. When the ancient vampire encounters a resistant mortal, he begins to romanticize them. His creator will woo and chase the human until he's won them over. Victor wonders if it’s the lack of control that Don Falcone enjoys. A little reminder of when the old nightcrawler was once mortal and at odds with the world. But inevitably, Carmine tires of their strong will and either kills them or keeps them as his prisoner until he’s had his fill. 

This is where he and his maker differ. His master will starve himself before feasting on just any human that wanders into his path. Victor is more than happy to sink his fangs into any human as long as they were to his tastes. Carmine on the other hand, would and could go years before feeding, only until a special human presents itself once again. This time it's Jim’s father, Peter. The man has held the ancient vampire's interest the longest. Usually after a couple of months Victor's master has either _altered_ his catch or fed off of them until they were nothing but dried husks, mummified and forgotten.

The _altered_ humans were the unfortunate ones, kept as mindless play things. It takes a few sessions to change them; vampires will feed off the human to the point of near death then allow them to recover to be fed upon again. There is something in a vampire bite, some disease that only strengthens as the host becomes weaker. This disease makes their will pliable but the mortals are forever doomed. Once altered, the transformation can not be halted or undone. Also, they can never be transformed into vampires once the _altered_ state begins; the only road for them is death. The victims are vaguely conscious of their predicament. Their souls trapped in the labyrinth of their diseased bodies and minds. 

Vampires gave the changed humans new names: _ghouls... undead_. This was because they ceased looking human. After a couple of months their flesh will start to hang, their color mottled into a sick looking gray. But what really made them ghastly is how they moan and peer through cloudy soulless eyes.

He had no taste for such things, preferring his meals fresh and vibrant up to the moment of their deaths. He prides himself on his mercifulness and always ensures his victims are disposed of quickly. 

Zsasz watches Jim closely; he doubts he would be able to resist drawing out his death. He could see keeping the blonde in his chambers to leisurely sip on for a couple of nights before taking the long drink.

A scuffle just beyond the host podium grabs their attention. The young detective is about to jump in to break it up, but the bouncers get there first. The ruffians are ejected by their necks and wrists out into the cold night. The bouncers watch them as they make their sloppy drunk headings in the opposite direction from the club.

Jim relaxes as the men go about their way. He makes his way towards the podium; Zsasz leans in and inhales deeply when the detective walks past him. 

The scent of him saturates and over powers the small space of the foyer. Besides the notes of regular human scent, there was also the smell of alcohol and a sweetness that's reminiscent of caramelized sugar that wafts and mixes. Victor swoons; his head and vision are filled with a fogginess he can’t shake. His body aches with a deep need; he swallows down the building saliva as his hunger begins to grow. 

Many people come and go, but Jim dominates over their presence. There had been others in Victor’s past that made him crave, but this was the first time he’s experienced a need so compelling it practically ignites a primal response from within him. He contemplates the meaning when, from deep in his chest, his lungs begin expanding. His mouth and nostrils intake a large breath as the muscles in his face twitch and retract. An irritation begins to grow; he feels it building into a growl. He pushes it down, stifling it before it escapes. The pending roar would assuredly shake the small space and deafen every mortal in the immediate vicinity. 

The muscles in his face harden as he does his best to keep from lashing out and going on a blood spree through the club. His eyes stay glued to the oblivious detective. Despite his startling reaction over Jim’s scent, he dares to want more of him. He _wants_ to touch him and talk to him. He _wants_ those blue eyes to _see_ him.

His wants are wrought with risk.

Once Carmine sets his sights on someone, that human is then off-limits. The ancient has outright killed vampires that dare to interfere with his vested interests.

Before Victor is able to second guess his reckless urge, he drops his concealment just as a group of drunks march towards the doors. He stands in their way and allows them to stumble into him. Two from the group bump into him, sending him flailing into the detective.

Jim is watching the crowds on the main floor when he feels a solid hit to his left shoulder. He begins to fall over, unable to adjust his balance. His eyes grow wide when he realizes he is soon falling.

Victor twists and plants both of his feet under him then he quickly reaches out for Jim. The movement is so fast that mortal eyes would have a hard time keeping up with the swift actions. He grabs at the man's coat and his closest wrist, pulling him towards him.

Jim gasps when he feels his body yanked out of the tumble and righted. Arms begin to coil around his waist. He does his best to find his footing and equilibrium when his rescuer calls out.

“Whoa! I gotcha!”

The detective gapes at the towering man who is drawing him in.

Zsasz feigns concern as he offers his apologies. “Sorry, ‘bout that. I got shoved. Are you alright?” The vampire turns to glare at the stumbling group.

One of the boys offers a quick apology as they head out the door. “Sorry, man. We didn’t see you there.”

Jim swallows as he places his hands on the stranger’s arm. He then feels the man's hands clamp down on his back; his coat begins to bunch in the rough grip. He raises an eyebrow and politely comments. “I should pay more attention.” 

He looks up into strange eyes; the depths of their darkness like twin starless nights. The hair on the back of his neck begins to rise; he quickly pulls away.

Victor tilts his head and smiles, obliging Jim’s wishes to be let go. He slowly follows the retreating detective, cornering him between the podium and wall. He chuckles easily, hoping to assuage the mortal’s mounting concern.

“This place can be rather distractin’.” 

Jim shies away from the man’s proximity. His back hits the wall which intensifies his discomfort. He frowns up at the man, intending to warn the admirer from coming any closer. 

His hardened gaze finally assesses the one that saved him from the fall. His stern brow melts ever so slightly. The unusual pallor of his skin is startling in itself, but the man is also smooth, not a hair on his face or head. If he were to guess his age, Jim is sure he would be wrong.

Large eyes sparkle as a warm smile beams down at him. The glint of a large ruby cravat pin catches his attention. It’s nestled in the waves of a neatly folded dark red ascot that accents an all-black three-piece attire under a large lapeled peacoat. Jim then recalls that Carmine had a similar cravat pin the night he went to take his statement. The man's silky voice draws him from this thought.

“Sorry ‘bout that, _really._ Are you here alone?”

Jim swallows thickly; he’s never encountered someone so unusual… **so intimidating**. He clears his throat and offers a small smile. “No, I’m not alone.”

Victor tilts his head; his eyes narrowing as he purrs. “Who would be dumb enough to leave a gorgeous man standin’ here, out of their sights?”

To Jim’s astonishment a chuckle escapes him. The surprising outburst catches him off guard; sweat starts to bead on his forehead. He soon gets his head together; the gallant’s interest was flattering, but he wasn’t about to lead the stranger on. 

“He’s in the restroom and should be back any moment. Have a goodnight. Thanks for the save.”

“Bullock, party of two?”

Jim smiles with relief when the host calls out to him; he turns and raises a quick hand. “Here.”

He gives the man standing in his way an expectant look. The pale stranger quickly takes a step to the side as a smooth head bows. A gloved-hand gestures casually for him to pass. 

“Well, I hope you enjoy your night wit' your _lucky man_.” Zsasz places his hand to his chest and smiles warmly as Jim.

Jim glances over his shoulder at him as he begins to follow the host. 

Victor shudders as the blonde disappears into the crowds. The mortal’s body was so warm and firm in his arms. Jim’s heady scent still fills his nose and sparks his senses. The urge to run after him and steal him away almost too great to resist. His form vanishes from sight and quickly follows.


	5. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intermission chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story will be on hold so I can write the rest of it all in one go. If anyone has suggestions on how they would like to see this all pan out. Shoot me a comment. I will take it into consideration =)
> 
> Okay, I will promise to post again once I have the rest of the story fleshed out.


End file.
